Skip to main content

Post #5

Thursday, 3.22.18
1:11pm
36 years old
184 pounds
Daniel Bryan in-ring status: active
Emotion level at Daniel Bryan's return to active status: overjoyed

It is a source of annoyance to the author's compatriots and associates and friends and colleagues that frequently, he is caught whistling the theme music of the circus. Its association with clowns and what that imagery invokes for some folks notwithstanding, it is a catchy tune that adheres well to one's audio faculties and proves difficult to shake. As far as commercial jingles go, it is devastatingly effective. But the author whistles this tune as a reminder to himself: this is all just a circus.

The author raised his Twitter app yesterday afternoon to discover that the nation's former vice president, Joe Biden, had said in an interview that had they gone to high school together and had he behaved then as he does now, Biden would have beaten the hell out of President Donald J. Trump. The ridiculousness of that statement's time-space problems aside, this is all just a circus. This is the case of an old man embracing the collective id of the public mind and aiming it at our President's all too large, all too delicate ego in an online slap-fight. Makes one pine for the days of Preston Brooks and Charles Sumner.

All right, that statement might be a bit hasty. But still.

How could a nation such as this, one built through genocide and slavery, address itself even sarcastically as civilized? We have proven, at every available opportunity and juncture, firmly unwilling to learn whatsoever from our past mistakes and history. This is not a representative nearly killing a Senator on the floor of the Senate with a cane, no, but in our defanged virtual lives, this farce masquerading as gentleman's duel or schoolyard posturing serves only to degrade whatever dignity the office of the vice presidency or presidency had left. This is shameful behavior on all sides, by all parties, and it is being broadcast across the planet in milliseconds. The amplification of it, the grandiose and grotesque way that is sold to us, well....it puts one in mind of the circus, does it not? And so the author whistles. Remind yourself that this is life under the big top, sold to you by a huckster and snake oil salesman, populated on all sides by clowns and animals performing tricks.

It is little comfort that as all this rages on around him, the author has seen trailers for the new documentary about Mister Rogers. Chatter seems to center around the emotional response evoked by the trailer, followed by some sentiment akin to "we didn't deserve him, man." But reader, this is a mad thought. Because of course we deserved Fred Rogers. There is not a person alive who could look at that man and his message and his treatment of children and his advocacy and see anything other than love made manifest. And he made it look so simple. Fred Rogers was what we could all have had and how we could all have lived if only we chose a little more kindness. If only we tried a little harder to be a neighbor. If only we didn't log online to lob schoolyard threats across the internet at a sitting President, loathsome as he may be. We could have been a neighborhood and instead, we chose the circus.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Post #34: Barbados Bye Bye

No one in Barbados has a last name. I learned this very early during my stay here. Whenever you meet someone, you get their first name and then an associative physical or geographical characteristic. "Hi, I'm Peter." And Peter is tall and bald and from Denmark and so that's how Peter is known to you from then on. When you describe Peter to someone else, those characteristics become that person's last name. Person A: "Do you know Peter?" Person B: "Maybe. Peter who?" Person A: "You know. Tall. Bald. From Denmark?" Person B: "Oh right - Peter!" What's incredible is that people fully accept that this counts as "knowing someone," and I can think of no better way to encapsulate my time on the island than that: a series of very intimate and personal connections, shared experiences, and fun where no one even knows your name. It's hard to say what I'll miss about Barbados because I believe that in time, this pl...

Post #26: The Moonraker

If you fly to the Caribbean, and you taxi to the southern coast of Barbados, to a clutch of jungle and tall grass called Green Garden Bay, which rests its ass on the beaches of the Silver Sands, nestled along the shore where kites fly in the morning and sentences run on for days, you will find the Moonraker Beach Hotel. Well, I say hotel, but is that what the Moonraker is, really? Imagine a two-story motel you can't drive up to, painted in bright Caribbean primary colors, and all the doors open to the world. This is a spot for surfers and kite-surfers and foilers to enjoy a spare living space between bouts of fighting the wind and sea. Formerly, it was a hotel, that is true. But to save on a cleaning staff and a receptionist, the owner of the property decided to make these rooms into "apartments." He did what he could with what was left after selling anything that could fetch value. A propane tank to power the stove. Mattresses with sheets for you to sleep and square tile...

Post #23

“Right here is a good place to find your focus for class.   We’re here for ninety seconds.” I’m being urged to find that mental space between “you can do this” and “sweet tea, just kill me” by a woman in outstanding shape.   She has a soothing voice and a wireless headset.   For the next 55 minutes, she is going to execute some of the most complicated stretching and positioning techniques I've seen in my life. She is going to do these things with an ease that startles and confounds me.   Physically, my body does not believe that the words coming out of this woman’s mouth correspond to actions that it is capable of.   So I kind of laugh. Ninety seconds?   She may as well have said two weeks. I am the one man in a room of seventeen to twenty women.   They’re here for the same reason I am: to get into better shape.   Outwardly, the place looks nothing like a gym.   You don’t hear weights clanging together.   You don’t hear the pou...